


Alone Together

by wendiigo



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: 90s vibe, Bromance, Bros comforting each other, M/M, Post-IT (2017), late teen losers, they just happen to be obliviously in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 05:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20830409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendiigo/pseuds/wendiigo
Summary: The year was 1993 yet 1989 was always on his mind.Sometimes it was easy to forget, especially with how fast the world seemed to fly by. High school was a bitch, his health was a bitch, his mother was … unpleasant. These were the main things that occupied his time. But not in summer when there was nothing to do. No, Summer brought everything back with a vengeance.🎈Eddie doesn't want to deal with his summer time nightmares alone and knows one person that might keep him company.





	Alone Together

The year was 1993 yet 1989 was on his mind.   
  
Eddie sat up straight in bed with the sweat dripping from his nose and his t shirt clinging to him. His breath was staggering, gasps that were more like wheezes while he blindly fumbled across his bedside table for the inhaler that was perched on top of his radio clock. Once he had his hands around it he quickly brought it to his lips, inhaling as he pressed down, not once but three times while his heart hammered in his chest.   
Eddie only exhaled with a heavy sigh of relief as his breathing, while still ragged, found a pace that was not sporadic. In his grip the inhaler was still shaking.   
  
The nightmare that had woken him was still so vivid in his mind. He wished his mother could be right; that nightmares begin to lose power when your eyes open. But these were no ordinary nightmares. These were memories, memories Eddie wished he could forget.   
  
He told himself to remember: the clown is dead. The clown can't hurt you. ** _It's fucking dead. _ **   
  
Sometimes it was easy to forget, especially with how fast the world seemed to fly by. High school was a bitch, his health was a bitch, his mother was … unpleasant. These were the main things that occupied his time. But not in summer when there was nothing to do. No, Summer brought everything back with a vengeance.   
  
“Fucking pull yourself together Eds…” he spoke softly to himself, leaning forward as he dropped the inhaler into his lap and rubbed his hands over his face. Still, he could feel his fingertips trembling against his skin. That’s when he knew he wouldn't sleep again that night. 

He turned on the small lamp beside his bed and noted the time on his clock. 1 AM. He tensed at how early it was. His long night would be full of memories he wished so badly to forget.  
It was times like this that he didn't want to be alone. It was times like this that Eddie wanted the losers.   
  
Bill, Ben, Bev, Stanley… they had all moved away for one reason or another. The fact that they didn't write or take the time to call told Eddie it was because they too had 1989 on their minds. Derry was the last place you would want to be when all you want to do is forget. But still… it didn’t mean you should forget what good things you left behind.   
  
All that was left was Himself, Mike and Richie. But Mike worked constantly, especially after the passing of his uncle. And Richie… Richie had been quiet that summer. Summers that were once full of the sound were now silent.   
  
But he could not sit there in silence.   
  
He slipped out of his room. Sneaking his way past the half open door of his mothers room, where he heard her snoring, and moved into the kitchen. He closed the door between the hallway and the kitchen to stop from waking her while he took the phone off the hook and dialled a number he knew by heart.   
  
After four long rings, the call connected and a muffled voice was on the other end that left Eddie with a mental image that already made him feel more settled.   
  
"Yeah?"   
  
Eddie could imagine Richie, his shoulder pressed against the frame of the door with the phone pinched between his ear and shoulder. A piece of pizza in the other hand with his mouth full of melted cheese and pepperoni with extra cheese. He was up watching either infomercials, porn, or reruns of the latest X-Files. Already, Eddie felt a weak smile on his lips.  


“Hey,” it was all Eddie could muster, but a mutter was still enough for Richie to know who was on the other line. “Ed? Why the fuck are you awake?”  


“I could say the same for you asshole.” 

He was glad he did this. The banter was soothing, nostalgic. They didn't do this as much, not like they used to. But it was short lived as the silence settled in and after thirty seconds, it was Richie who spoke up.  


“You good?”   


There was another thirty seconds of silence, as Eddie found the air in his lungs to speak. He closed his eyes, shook his head slightly as if Richie was there with him. “No…”  


There was a small rustling on Richie’s end of the line as he held the phone properly in his grip. “Meet at the club house in fifteen?”   


“Yeah.”  


There was no goodbye.

🎈

Eddie found Richie's car parked on the curb side leading into the forest. A bright red Toyota supra turbo, second hand of course, but Richie had saved up all of last summer and worked his ass off at Blockbuster to get the car that he called the _ pussy magnet _. At least some things about Richie hadn’t changed. 

Eddie on the other hand still had a bike. He didn't even have a drivers licence, not after his mother had cried and begged him not to. She had told him he would surely die behind the wheel of a car. He rode up over the curb and into the brush and left his bike leaning against the trunk of a tree before pulling the flashlight from its basket.   


He made his way through the trees and shrubs, following the track laid out only by the many times the losers had travelled it and ground grass into dirt. The air was hot, but a breeze travelled through the gaps in the trees, cooling the sweat on the back of Eddie’s neck.

When he reached the small break in the woods, the trap door was open and light poured up from the ground. Eddie had only been here once this summer, when he, Mike and Richie had got together and drank a six pack of beer Richie had stolen from his uncle's bar fridge. Eddie had been content that day.  


Without waiting he moved towards the hole in the ground and made his way down the old ladder, skipping half the steps before he reached the ground. In the corner of the hide out Eddie saw the long pair of legs sprouting from the hammock.  


Even with 1989 on his mind, the site of Richie’s larger body in that hammock reminded him they were not prepubescent teens anymore.  


Eddie was seventeen, lankey with little muscle and still so much concern in his wide doe eyes. He learned to find comfort in statistics to balance his fear of everything, but his fear of the clown has no possible mathematical explanations. 

Richie was also seventeen, but taller and broader than Eddie. He was in no way fit, but still got pissed when Eddie would suggest he was fat (even when Eddie thought in no way that he was.) He still had a stupid mop of hair but his glasses now fit his face. 

Their younger selves were there in simple glimpses, but they had grown so much since their fight with a psychotic clown.   


Richie had been flipping through an old comic before he heard Eddie’s converse crunching the dead leaves at the opening of the hideout. He pulled the thin comic from his eyes and looked across at him, already analysing the state of his not okay friend. Eddie could feel the gaze and it left his skin crawling uncomfortably. 

Richie was too quiet and Eddie broke the silence.  


“Hey.”

“Hi.”   


Richie dropped the comic back on top of the pile beside the hammock and shifted, swinging his leg over to use the hammock as a chair. They were both in their pjs. Richie in shorts and some Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles t-shirt that Stan had bought him after they watched _ The Secret of the Ooze _. Eddie had changed from his sweat drenched shirt into the old roadrunner tshirt stuffed away in his drawers, clashing with the ugly green pajama pants that were just too comfy to hate. 

Richie was a slob, Eddie was a mess. But looks were nothing to the both of them. Not after everything they had been through, not after all the years.   


When Richie motioned with his head for Eddie to come closer, he didn't hesitate to step across the small hideout and only sighed gently with what could have been a relief just to have some company.

“You sure it's going to hold us both?” Eddie asked as he paused in front of Richie. Richie glanced at the support beams that the hammock was tied to for a second of thought before shrugging. “Guess we will find out.”   


While this made Eddie frown at the statistics of them being caught in a collapsed hideout and never found again, he was too tired and stressed to even work out the maths in that situation. Richie scotched over as Eddie sat beside him on the hammock, it dipped and the construction groaned. 

Eddie tensed quickly when he thought that this was the end of the line. However, the groaning ceased after a few seconds, and the ceiling still hadn't fallen in. When Eddie looked at Richie he saw the edges of Richies lips were curled in an amused smile after watching the other panic. In response, Eddie glared at him, shoving him gently, which only triggered a warm laugh in response.   


They sat against each other. The hammock pressed their shoulders together, their forearms, thighs. Squished together like sardines in a can. They were used to this, it was nothing different from how they used to be. It was comforting, welcomed.   


He watched Richie adjust his glasses before turning all attention to Eddie. “What happened?”

Now that he was there, it almost seemed pathetic and it made Eddie frown, biting his bottom lip for a second. But, it he said it was nothing, Richie would call him out on his bullshit and force it out.

“I had a nightmare…”  


He half expected Richie to laugh and call him a pussy, ask him if it was about _ his mom _. But he didn't. He was quiet and inspecting Eddies expression. It was enough to make Eddie shift uncomfortably. 

“About... it?” 

That single word gave Eddie such a vivid memory of white face paint, red lips and orange eyes, and rows of sharp teeth. Eddie frowned at the imagery and nodded.   


The hammock swayed with Richies movements, Eddie suddenly felt a warm hand against his leg. He looked down and watched Richie’s fingers gently curl against his plain, ugly green pjs. “Eds, it can't hurt us anymore… we killed the fucker.”  


Eddie knew this, he remembered it well. But it changed nothing. He sighed softly and in acknowledging Richies words he slipped his hand slowly over the top of the others. Beneath his fingertips he could feel Richies hand tense and when Eddie looked at Richie he saw the other looking down at their hands. Instead of pulling away, his fingers curled gently, holding onto Richie’s hand.   


His heart drummed in his tight chest.  


“It doesn’t stop me from remembering…” Eddie spoke, almost whispering, after a few seconds in silence. It seemed to bring Richie’s attention back to him, and he frowned so softly. Eddie looked at him and in the glow of their flashlights, Eddie could see how tired Richie was. 

“I know… I…” Richie sighed, the words were struggling to find him and he frowned at himself. “I have been thinking about it a lot, too…”   


He squeezed Eddie’s thigh gently before shifting his hand in Eddie’s grip, now he was holding Eddie’s hand properly. His palm was sweaty, his fingers lacing with Eddie’s. But there was nothing uncomfortable about it, it was comforting. Everything about Richie in that moment comforted him. “I get angry in the summer now, now that we aren’t all together… it just reminds me that those losers have cut us out of their lives and--”   


“And left us to carry the burden?” 

Richie nodded. Eddie watched him, watched Richie look at the hideaway that was more cobwebs than memories. It made him realise something.   


“Is that why you haven’t been hanging out with Mike and I?” 

Richie looked back when the question left Eddie’s lips. He frowned at Eddie, whose expression was still soft and tired. Richie breathed, or more scoffed. He didn’t want to answer.

“Are you trying to forget, Rich?”   


Eddie squeezed his hand, and Richie frowned softer before sighing and shaking his head. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand, shaking his head again. “Of course I want to forget - we all want to fucking forget - its just…” he trailed off, looking down at their hands again. 

“I don’t want to forget you…” Richie’s soft words made Eddie’s chest feel tighter. It made him gently squeeze Richie’s hand again.   


“Hey--” 

He pressed his shoulder gently into Richie’s. He leaned in, tilting his head to make eye contact again with Richie. “We aren’t going to forget each other… not you and me.”   


Every loser had a strong bond with another, in friendship, love, loyalty, admiration… what Richie and Eddie had was all that rolled into one. But to admit that, both to themselves and to each other, was difficult. Even more difficult was when they looked into each others eyes and _ knew _ what was in their hearts.   


“You promise?”  


Eddie could see the hope in Richie’s eyes, the plea. Eddie nodded, offering a soft smile as he let go of Richie’s hand only to hook their pinkies together and shaking on it. 

“You fucking know it Richie Tozier…”  


The pinky promise left Richie breathing a warm laugh as they shook pinkies. “Are you a baby, Eds?”

“Don’t call me Eds, _ Trashmouth… _”

“_ Eddie Spaghetti _ \--”   


Eddie wrinkled his nose and Richie used his grip on Eddie’s finger to pull him closer, laughing again. They were pressed against one another, and Eddie leaned in to press his forehead against Richie’s shoulder, closing his eyes with a small smile. “Don’t Rich--”  


That was when Richie’s lips shifted close to his ear, enough for Eddie to feel his breath against his lobe. Eddie’s heart skipped a beat. “_ Cute. _ ”  


Eddie hated that nickname the most. But in that moment, he said nothing. Instead he felt his face flush and he kept it against Richie’s shoulder. Instead he closed his tired eyes to breathe in his best friends scent - some cheap ass deodorant from the drug store. Those memories that wanted to badly stick to the walls of his brain were peeling away, all thanks to Richie, their pinkies still locked.   


They stayed like that for a long time, the minutes dragged on in a silence that neither wanted to break. But finally, Richie spoke, his nose buried against Eddie’s messy hair. 

“Come back to mine..? You can crash in my bed, I’ll stay awake for you.”  


Eddie didn’t even complain, he simply nodded at the idea of sleeping in a bed that he _ knew _ he would rest well in. Finally, he lifted his head from Richie’s shoulder and the two came face to face. They watched each other for a second longer than they should have, Eddie’s heart skipping in his chest and stomach bubbling with butterflies. Then, Richie offered him another smile - finally unhooking their pinkies and reaching his hand up to pat Eddie’s warm cheek.  


“Let's go home, Eds.”  


**Author's Note:**

> 1993 Richie and Eddie is a vibe. 
> 
> Richie thinks Jurassic Park is a rad movie and works at Blockbuster. He wears a shit ton of plaid and doc martins. He also owns Star Fox on his SNES and stays up late watching X-Files.  
Eddie has to watch The Nanny with his mom every night (and likes it cause it is a great show), he still wears shorts and long socks but his all star converse are expensive and chrisp white. They're growing up and further apart but god do they still care about each other a lot. 
> 
> Thats all I really wanna say I just like 90s Reddie.


End file.
